


Season's Greetings

by dzae



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 01:01:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11452719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dzae/pseuds/dzae
Summary: An epilogue of sorts for the players in joint time looped campaigns I helped to run. Merry Christmas in advance!





	Season's Greetings

_A new day lies ahead of you. Something terrible waits behind you. I wouldn't turn around, oh no- not. At. All. **Welcome** to Night Vale.  
_

* * *

 

Cecil here: I am both happy and surprised to report that snow is descending on Night Vale. Citizens are advised to stay indoors to avoid exposure as clusters of unique and possibly priceless- most certainly deadly- ice flakes fall from the sky, littering the landscape and providing much needed work for volunteers on Cleaning Day (long may it be delayed). Time honoured traditions such as winter solstice and 'Fun Mandatory Bloodstone Circle Friday' will soon make their way across town and into memory: it is once again a time for peace on Earth and long, bitter, secret bloodshed below the waters.

A new star has been spotted in Night Vale. Citizens report from where they cower under bridges and behind unmarked black cars (in which agents of a vague yet menacing government agency hurriedly take notes) that it is now orbiting the dog park, showing no sign of descending. We sent our intern Arne out to investigate: more on this story as it unfolds.

In the spirit of the holidays, but mainly due to Carlos' repeated prompting, I am willing to … forgive … Steve Carlsberg, who I continue to dislike, but who perhaps hadn't intended to insult me when he suggested that I come over for dinner this weekend. It's still a no, Steve.

This year we're planning to forgo my usual practice of distractedly muttering into a bloodstone circle in favour of one of Carlos' favourite traditions: exacting revenge on an immortal being after luring it into his fireplace. It's not one I've heard of before, but it sure sounds like a lot of fun!

We would like to offer our condolences to Arne's family: it seems he forgot to take adequate snow protection with him, such as winter tires, umbrellas, or cool shades. His current state is uncertain, like many who wander out into the snow to forget and be forgotten: whose footprints are lost in the flurries, along with the very implication of feet.

Concerned callers have reported that Eternal Scout Dibble, one of the several scouts encased in stone outside of the mayor's office in case of town-wide emergency, has stepped down from her plinth and turned to face the other scouts. “Sorry, it's my day off,” she reportedly said.

“There's no emergency to worry about,” she assured nearby townsfolk, who crouched and gibbered in response. “There are many other reasons to fear,” she assured a point in space some distance ahead of her, and set off in the direction of the dog park.

Citizens, I am unsure of the scout's intentions. I am unsure how I feel about the sudden and avoidable death of Intern Arne. Was he afraid in his last moments? Am I afraid in these current moments? Did he make my coffee before he left? The snow brings with it many questions, Night Vale.

And now, traffic.

 _A worn and rusted minibus glides through desert sand. Its windows are broken, bloody. The driver turns, faces the furrowed lines left in their wake, smiles in satisfaction. The passengers are silent. A moon hangs low in a cloudless sky; the driver swerves to avoid it. All is proceeding as they foresaw it- all is ending at some unforeseen point._ This has been traffic.

I'm getting word that Eternal Scout Dibble has begun construction of a bloodstone circle outside the gates of the dog park. The Sheriff's secret police have declined to comment on the situation, instead whistling low, pointed notes and rolling their eyes to indicate the hooded figures standing inches behind them. More will come to light on this, I'm sure, but first, today's horoscopes.

_Aries – Mars is bright tonight. Everything's so, so bright: you can barely distinguish light from blindness. Watch out for familiar faces, Aries. Check your left, then your right. No? They must be below you._

_Taurus – I hope you prepared your lines, Taurus. Everyone's going to be listening tonight._

_Gemini – Spare a thought for badgers this week, Gemini. They've been through more than you know._

_Cancer – Fate has its eye on you, Cancer, so don't drop the ball now. This week you could become anything you wanted to be. Or, more likely, anything they make you become._

_Leo – We're still not sure what future we're seeing. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Statistically speaking, it's probably a bird._

_Virgo – Something's come to haunt you, Virgo. Is it your past? Someone else's? Whatever it is, you can expect company._

_Libra – Yes, you did forget to iron the cat. Better hurry back quickly!_

_Scorpio – When all else fails, assume the worst. If things have yet to fail, misfortune waits to befall you. Speaking of, have you seen my spider collection? I haven't for some time now, but it's probably fine._

_Sagittarius – There's a lot of travel in your future, Sagittarius. Places to be, people to see- how do you find the time for it all?_

_Capricorn – You, too, have a long trip ahead of you. Don't take so many mushrooms next time, Capricorn._

_Aquarius - Aquarius has been cancelled. The stars are even now going out around you. Wait, you're saying that hasn't happened yet? Oh, you'll see._

_Pisces – The road ahead of you is defined by deals not brokered. And snakes, of course. Watch out for those snakes._

According to Old Woman Josie, the beings she _insists_ on calling angels who are all named Erika have positioned themselves defensively around the dog park should the situation turn sour. With the bloodstone circle now complete, ghostly figures have begun appearing inside, their motives unclear. The secret police still have yet to comment, so in the absence of Intern Arne I asked the vague yet menacing government agent monitoring me what she thought of the visitors.

“They definitely aren't local,” she said (after rudely shouting “Mayday, mayday! Target is aware!” into nearby monitoring devices). “Ain't the sort of folks I've seen around Pine Cliff, neither.”

Pine Cliff is, of course, known for its large ghost population. I was about to inquire further as to what proportion of the town she actually knew, and the statistical significance of the people she hadn't met yet, when we were interrupted by reports that a minivan had broken several speeding regulations entering Night Vale, finally screeching to a halt outside the dogpark as an intervening lamp post arrested its momentum. The passengers were unmoved by the spectacle as they stepped out, calmly ignoring the friendly greetings from nearby citizens of “Interloper! Interloper! (That was my street lamp!)” Before we address these exciting developments, I bring you [the weather](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4PjNnCRA6Ts).

The secret police have finally made a statement, expressing through the medium of interpretive dance their commitment to protecting the town from invasive threats. _We won't stand for this sort of thing_ , one agent communicated, flapping their arms and performing threatening barrel rolls. The Erikas have not yet stepped in to intervene, most likely because (as we all know) angels don't actually exist.

Our sponsors this week took the liberty of carving their message into my front door. I _was_ already using that door, but we all need to make sacrifices to ensure the continued functioning of community radio. Why not make yours after this brief announcement?

_If you've found this message, statistically speaking it isn't even for you. What, do you have a thing for listening in on people's conversations? Have some decency._

_This message will find its way to you eventually, I know: I know that because you're already here, chatting and smiling at me as I'm devoting all of my attention to your words, as I'm standing in a forest far away carving letters inside an oak tree. Time is_   _ **strange** sometimes, and therefore always._

_I just wanted to say, while I have the luxury of speaking to you all here, that I'm glad we got together like this. There's no better present than the present! Well, except when Lee Marvin took me on tour, but he didn't do a Christmas concert. On that front, this was all I wanted._

_It's been a while since we all got together like we used to. That's okay- people move in and out of your lives like a flash in the pan. One day it'll be the last time, and that's okay too- it happened, and it'll always have happened, no matter what new directions our experiences take us. Sometimes, it's enough for a day to happen once._

Tensions ran high in the last few minutes as the secret police and nearby conscripted witnesses formed a loose circle around the strangers, waiting for some sign of malicious intent. Instead, the strangers spent the time chatting animatedly and waving at the circling star as though greeting an old friend, or perhaps signalling panic and confusion at the size of the sky. The hooded figures who normally guard the dog park were nowhere to be seen; the gates of the dog park remained closed. The secret police and witnesses cautiously maintained their position, occasionally shouting “Interloper!” and donning sound-dampening headphones so as not to hear Eternal Scout secrets. And yet, nothing. Eternal Scout Dibble and the strangers talked, and talked, until finally they took a step into somewhere that was not here, and only the bus and blood circle remained. The strangers are here no longer. It is unclear if they were ever here. The plinth that once held Scout Dibble remains, a testament either to her existence or the overzealousness of masons.

Listeners, today is a day of uncertain feelings. I can (and will) only presume to know what it is the strangers wanted. As I look out over a snow-covered town full of people that I know, and others who take pains to stay unknown, I think of Carlos, who I'll be seeing tonight; of interns, and transience, and people that I haven't seen in a long time. Stay tuned for long silences and the warm impression of memories- and until next time, good night, Night Vale. Good night.

* * *

 

_Today's proverb: Shoot for the stars. In a timeless, endless blood space war, who else will protect them?_


End file.
